She wasn’t wearing it in the photo.
Digging deeper into the bucket she’d found other surprises. Photos of an aging couple, their brown skin wrinkled, mouths missing teeth. Other people, all with Reuben’s skin and black hair, but their surroundings of dirt, sun, and adobe huts.
Letters, all in Spanish. From Mexico.
Casey had closed the bucket then. Had stumbled back into the house, where Ricky had grabbed her and led her to the couch. Had finally cried the tears that had so far been evasive.
Reuben’s family was dead. He’d told her so. No parents. No siblings. She was his only family. And then Omar. It was just the three of them—
“I’m a little afraid of what’s in there,” Eric said.
Casey swallowed.
“You’re not going anywhere, right?” His voice shook.
She hesitated to answer.
“I mean, right this minute.”
“No. No, I’m not going anywhere now.”
“Okay.” He stepped forward, withdrawing the key from his pocket. “Here goes nothing.” He slid the key into the lock, and turned it. The lock popped open. He stood looking at it, his hand on the bottom half, not turning it away. His shoulders went up. Then down. He glanced over his shoulder at Casey. She tried to look encouraging.
“I wish he’d just open it.”
Casey shrieked, and jumped away from Death.
“What?” Eric jerked away from the locker. “What is it?”
Casey turned away, her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath. “Nothing. It’s fine. I thought…I saw a rat.”
“A rat? In here?” Eric turned in a circle, hands up and out, as if a rat was going to jump out at him.
“I was wrong,” Casey said. “There’s no rat. It was, just a…just a shadow. A trick of the light.”
“Oh. Well.” He put a hand over his heart. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry.”
He shook his head and turned back to the locker. Casey glared at Death, who’d adopted an innocent look and munched on some dark chocolate M&Ms from a king-sized bag.
Eric squared his shoulders, wrenched the lock from the locker, and flung open the door. They stared.
Casey stepped closer. “What are they?”
“I don’t know.” Death peered over her shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Eric said. “Parts for something.”
Two little pieces, one white plastic tube-like part with a small metal tab on its flat end, and the other, also of white plastic, that looked like an oversized and flattened nail.
“Something from the plant?” Casey asked.
“I would think so.”
They stared at them some more, until Eric picked them up and pulled them out. He walked with them out to the kitchen and set them on the counter. He turned them this way and that, but nothing made it clear what exactly they were.
“Are there serial numbers?”
He shrugged. “Don’t see one. That wouldn’t help me, anyway. I don’t see these things enough to be able to identify them.”
“Your computer?”
“It would have a list, but like I said, there’s no number.”
Death had found an empty spot on the counter, and was shaking out the last pieces of the candy. Casey looked over and made a subtle gesture at the plastic pieces, but Death shrugged, obviously unaccustomed to—or uninterested in—appliance parts.
“So how do we find out?” Eric asked. “I can’t exactly march into HomeMaker and ask around. Ellen hid them here for a reason.”
Casey scooped an empty pasta box out of the trash. “Put them in here.”
“And we’ll take them to HomeMaker?”
“Nope. We’re taking them down the street to our own private mechanic.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“It’s a door latch,” Aaron said. It had taken him about two seconds to identify it. “The two pieces fit together.”
Eric frowned. “A door latch for what?”
“A dryer, maybe. At least, that’s what I’d guess. Where’s it from?”
“We don’t know,” Casey said, cutting off Eric’s reply.
“But—”
“Look, Aaron, we’ll tell you when we can, okay? For now, though, can we just…”
“Keep it quiet?” He shrugged, but his eyes betrayed his interest. “I can do that.”
“Thanks.”
“Aaron,” Eric said. “We mean it.”
“Can I at least tell Jack?”
“No,” Casey and Eric said together.
Aaron held up his hands. “Okay. Geez. I won’t say anything.”
Casey tried to smile, but was sure she just looked grim. “It’s for your own safety, Aaron. Okay?”
“Okay.” He let his hands fall. “So this is serious.”
“Very.”
He made a zipper motion across his lips. “I don’t know a thing, and I never saw that.” He nodded toward the box.
Eric closed the lid. “That’s what we want to hear. Thanks, buddy.”
They were on their way out when Aaron called, “See you at rehearsal tonight?”
Eric looked back. “We’ll be there.” He stashed the box behind the driver’s seat and Casey reluctantly joined him in the car.
“Now what?” Eric said.
“Now we figure out why she had that particular part in her locker.”
“What time is it?”
Casey glanced at the dashboard clock. “A little past noon.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because the front office people at HomeMaker only work a half day on Saturday.”
“So we can go to your office?”
“It sits there empty most of the time. It’s time we put it to good use.”
They waited in the parking lot of the diner, Casey not at all hungry after her late breakfast, until almost twelve-forty-five before driving over to the plant.
“Karl’s space is empty,” Eric said. “And Yvonne’s. We should be clear.” His voice betrayed his anxiety.
“If someone’s there, you can fake it. You have legitimate reasons to be here, right?”
“I guess. But I was here yesterday. And the day before. They’re going to start to get suspicious that I’m working so hard.” He gave a wry smile.
“So you’ve turned over a new leaf. Gotten interested in Daddy’s business.”
“And you?”
“I’m new in town. You’re just being friendly.”
“Yeah. They’re sure to buy that.” He sighed. “All right. Come on, then.”
The front door was locked, which was a good sign. “The line workers go in the back,” Eric said. “So they don’t need this door. The only ones coming in here are administrators and visitors.”
He unlocked the door and went in, punching the numbers on the alarm key pad.
“I’m surprised you remember the code.”
“The first thing Karl taught me. He hates getting called away from bed—or a golf game—for a false alarm.”
The office was silent. No clicking keyboards, no phones. No receptionist.
Eric unlocked the door to the back and they went in. Neither Yvonne nor Kathy was there. Eric walked quietly to Willems’ door and knocked. No response. He tried the door, but it didn’t open. “Not here.”
Casey let out the breath she’d been holding. “So let’s get to work.”
In Eric’s office, she pulled a second chair around to the back of his desk so she could see the computer screen. He typed in a search for dryer parts, which brought up about a hundred listings.
“Try dryer door latches,” Casey said.
He typed it in, and about a dozen lined up on the monitor. “Well, we can rule out several of those.”
Seven of those displayed had entirely metal parts, where theirs was all plastic, except for the small piece on what the computer called the “catch.”
Casey scooted her chair up closer. “What about the others? Are there dates for when they were manufactured?”
He clicked on the first one. “The ones with the completely metal ‘strike’ are marked as only special order. The dryers themselves went off the line ten to twenty years ago. It’s amazing anyone would still have one.”